


5 Times Percival's Crush was Really Obvious

by animarune



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fantastic Beasts Kink Meme, High School - Still Magical, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 05:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11284566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animarune/pseuds/animarune
Summary: (+1 time Percival actually had it under control)For thiskinkmeme: "IMAGINE GRAVES AS A SUPER POPULAR STUDENT EVERYONE'S AFRAID OF LIKE??? HE'S AN ATHLETE?? HE'S A MEMBER OF THE STUDENT COUNCIL AND HE'S SMART AND INTIMIDATING AF BUT HE HAS A MASSIVE CRUSH ON NEWT AND NEWT IS OBLIVIOUS BUT HE ALSO HAS A CRUSH ON GRAVES"bonus for graves being protective of newt and jacket lending abd aidhskdkksskalwll PLEASE I NEED A MODERN AU"My own bonuses (so far) include: Theseus giving Percival a Hard Time about his crush while secretly Shipping ItNotes: Modern high school AU, still magical, with magical technology thrown in (e.g. WIM, wixen instant messenger lol)





	5 Times Percival's Crush was Really Obvious

**1.**

Percival doesn't run his hand through his hair. He spent ten minutes styling it this morning and he is not going to ruin it this early in the day. Percival also refuses to remove his jacket even though the sun feels like it's trying to boil him alive in it, even though cooling charms can only do so much, because he has an _image_ to maintain, damn it. He doesn't scuff his bespoke shoes or even tap his feet in impatience. He doesn't do any of these things, but he _does_ allow himself to huff when he checks his watch for the time. Again.

Theseus is late.

It's been two years since Theseus stayed with Percival's family for an exchange, and a year and a half since Percival met Theseus's. Three months teaching Theseus American wixen and no-maj culture. Three months learning British wixen culture at Hogwarts. They've since kept in touch through email and WIM, and recently Percival received a vague message from Theseus about a visit. Well, he said specifically to meet him in front of Quick Quidditch Supplies in Vertick Alley*; the vague part of the message is attributed to the lack of details on _why_ and _for how long_ Theseus will be visiting. He also said, _specifically_ , to meet here at "half nine," yet it's nearing ten o'clock and Percival has yet to see the boy.

He's just beginning to consider caving in and shedding his jacket when he notices something strange out of the corner of his eye. He turns. Squints.

 _There!_ A small, dark creature peaks out from behind an a-frame sign, and Percival watches with mild interest as it skitters over to an unaware group of women window-shopping at a jeweler's. The creature stares up at them intently, and Percival has a niggling sense of foreboding. It looks a lot like an overgrown mole with a duck's beak, an awful lot like the description of...

Ah. The Niffler just made off with one of the women's glittering hairpins.

Now Percival has a moral dilemma: Theseus still hasn't shown up, and this is the most entertaining thing to have happened all morning, but he should really probably try to catch the thing instead of watch it rob unsuspecting wixen in broad daylight, shouldn't he?

The Niffler has moved on to temporarily follow a mixed group of people, dashing in and out of Percival's sight, when a commotion further down the alley distracts him. There's shouts of protest and distracted apologies and when Percival looks back at where he last saw the creature it's no longer there. Something taps against his back and he turns, expecting Theseus, but instead feels his watch relieve itself of his wrist. He glances down just in time to see the thieving little bugger's hind-end scamper off. Mercy Lewis, but thank Hecate Percival's Trace was lifted months ago; he's about to withdraw his wand from his jacket to immobilize the creature when someone else beats him to it. A group of older gentlemen, probably college students, jeer complaints while one of them dangles the Niffler by its hind leg. They're being rather rough with the creature, actually, and Percival would rather just get his watch back now so he might as well stop them from doing something stupid.

Theseus still hasn't arrived; Percival almost checks his watch-less wrist for the time. Before he can approach the men, though, he nearly falls on his face when something bumps into him. That something throws a halfhearted apology over his shoulder and keeps running, brown briefcase in hand and blue coattails flapping almost mockingly behind him.

Aggrieved and annoyed, Percival catches his footing and gives chase.

Up ahead the man who bumped into him is calmly asking the men to "kindly return" his Niffler, please. There’s three of them, and one of the two not holding the Niffler gets a gleefully mean smile on his face.

“You’re like, twelve,” he laughs. “What are you gonna do?”

“Please,” says the man—boy? He’s taller than they are, but his voice _does_ sound quite young—in blue, “he’s completely harmless. Just give him back.”

The one holding the creature gives a sudden chortle, shaking the creature and jeering at his friends, “Hey, you think if I squeeze it hard enough it’ll pop?”

“Please, don’t—”

“Or,” says the third, cold eyes trained on the squirming creature as he pulls out his wand, “we can just _make_ it blow up. It’ll be like a piñata—”

He’s cut off with a loud smack and a cry, and Percival watches the man go down hard on his ass. The boy hadn’t even let go of the briefcase, still clutched safely at his side. Outraged, the others turn on him, but Percival’s caught up now and knows he cuts a more intimidating figure than the lanky boy currently shaking out his no-doubt sore hand. As it is, he also has his own wand drawn defensively, a fierce scowl on his face that dares them to try anything stupid.

“Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” he challenges, voice bone dry. He stares them down long enough to make them wary. To the one still holding the squirming Niffler, he barks, “If you’re done kicking puppies, give the man his creature back, pick up your friend and your egos, and _get lost_.”

The boy doesn’t wait; he moves so quickly Percival misses when he put down the briefcase. Quick as a spell, the Niffler's been removed from the man’s slack hands and drawn protectively to the boy's chest. There’s a pregnant pause as the three college boys falter, and finally Percival cuts a stinging hex at each of them with a roar, “Now!”

Quite literally shocked into action, they finally grab up their friend by the arms and quickly stumble off, still grumbling indignantly to themselves. Percival mostly ignores them, only sparing enough attention to make sure they don’t come back or try to catch him off-guard with a hex of their own. Instead he observes the boy next to him, who seems to be scolding the creature for running off.

“Now,” he’s saying, in a tone like Percival’s mother’s when he was young and constantly in trouble, “what have you gotten into this time?” In a flash, the Niffler’s been turned upside down, and with a few shakes, a small pile of stolen treasure grows on the sidewalk between them.

Percival shakes his head in bemusement, bending down to retrieve his watch from the pile. When he’s upright again, their gazes meet and his breath catches in his throat. _Green._ Green, downturned eyes crinkled up in a surprised, grateful smile peer out at him from behind a mess of ginger hair for just a moment before the boy ducks his head, posture meek. “Thank you for helping me,” he says to the Niffler’s paws, and Percival notices now that his accent is a pleasant English lilt.

Percival puts his wand away, hoping to disguise the way his heart is hammering embarrassingly while he thinks of how to reply. It must be residual adrenaline from the confrontation. His watch is still loose in his hand. He gestures with it. “Well, I was already about to step in when you bumped into me.” And that came out accusatory, Percival, well done.

The boy’s head drops even lower. “Ah, sorry.” He can’t be too much younger than Percival, can he? Hugging the Niffler in his arms, he seems to be staring at somewhere around Percival’s shoulder as he explains, somewhat haltingly, “He’s misbehaving because we’re in a new place, you see. I wasn’t expecting an escape attempt.”

“Well,” Percival stalls, upset with himself and trying not to stare at the way the boy’s lips are pursed in a frowning pout. “I’m sure there’s no harm done. Let me just...” He withdraws his wand again, and with a complicated bit of wandwork and a muttered incantation, the small pile of treasure scatters in the direction of their owners back down the walkway.

“Oh!” the boy laughs. “Brilliant!” And Percival feels a bit lost in that bright sound.

“Um.” How can he wear such a thick coat in this heat? And that’s over a suit jacket and vest! Percival feels feverish just looking at him. That’s the only explanation for the burning in his cheeks. He should have taken off his jacket.

“Well,” the boy says to him, shifting his weight in a display of discomfort. “Thank you again.” He ducks down, catches up the briefcase and rattles off, “I, ah, I have to get this little bugger back home, now. Cheers!”

Before Percival can say anything to object, the boy’s halfway around a corner already and there’s too many people between them for him to follow. He will forever deny the pitiful, confused noise that escaped his mouth unbidden. It’s just as well, anyway. Returning his wand to its holster again, Percival fastens his watch around his wrist, disgruntled to see it’s now nearing ten-thirty. He’s not sure which is more likely, that Theseus got lost or that he stood him up.

A heavy hand claps loudly on his shoulder and Percival curses in surprise. “Percy!” a voice crows. “I thought we agreed to meet at Quick Quidditch; what are you doing over here?”

Of all the—! ”We also agreed to meet at nine-thirty,” he growls, turning to face his wayward friend. He’s grown in the year and a half since they parted, grown a little more into his face and shoulders. He’s also let his hair grow out a bit; the dark curls fall stylishly over striking blue eyes, and Percival has a vague feeling of déjà vu that he ignores in favour of shoving Theseus back a step. “Where have you been?” His gaze drops to the rest of him and he cries, “Mercy Lewis, what are you _wearing_? Are you hoping for heat stroke? This isn’t London!”

Theseus just shoves him back, all smiles and laughter as he teases, “Ah, Percy, still a mother-hen, I see! Full wonder how anyone at school was scared of you, you big ol’ softy.”

Right, he’d forgotten how much of a headache Theseus’s cheer could be. Sighing, he asks, “Did you get lost on the way here?”

Giggling, he leads them back in the direction of Quick Quidditch Supplies, hands in his Burberry as he says, “Well, see, it’s been two years, nearly, and mum wanted us to give a good impression for our reunion. And we only just got here yesterday, so it took a tad longer than expected to find the boxes of our nicer clothes.” He must catch the confused tilt of Percival’s head, because he laughs again. “That’s right, mum still dresses me and Newt, of course. Can’t argue with her; she’ll make us clean the Hippogriffs’ stables.”

He goes on to explain how, just when they arrived in Vertick Alley, Newt had stumbled and a few of his creatures had escaped from his case. Theseus had had to do damage control since he’s the one old enough to cast magic out of school while Newt was left to wrangle up his beasts again. But Percival has stopped listening because his brain is still stuck on _Newt being in Vertick Alley_. It’s too much a coincidence—that he’d stumbled upon a young British wizard with red hair in possession of a creature native to the UK who looks alarmingly like Theseus—for it to not have been Newt.

“You wouldn’t happen to’ve seen him, did you, Percy?”

Which means it was Newt by whom Percival was so flustered. _Newt Scamander._ Theseus’s _baby brother._

Withholding a groan, Percival clears his throat. _I just saw him punch a man in the face in defence of an overgrown mole, and I don’t know how I feel about it,_ he doesn’t say. What he _does_ manage to say, casual as you please, is, “I don’t think I saw any little gingers running around, no.”

It makes Theseus laugh. “Nah, mate, Newt’s as tall as I am now!”

Percival makes a disgusted sound. “It’s bad enough you’re a giant; your brother’s what, fifteen?” He holds the door open for them and they share a relieved sigh at the cool air in the store.

Theseus makes a considering noise, trailing over to the broom display. “He’s closer to seventeen, actually,” he says, to Percival’s surprise, “but he’ll be two years below us at school. For reasons.”

“Us?”

Theseus turns to him with a giddy smile. “Oh! I forgot to tell you!” Instead of telling him _now_ , he keeps giggling to himself.

This doesn’t bode well. Percival follows him over to display of Ilvermorny High’s Quidditch house uniforms. With dawning horror, he asks, “How long are you in New York for, again?”

“Which house do you think I’ll be in?” Theseus asks excitedly instead of answering.

Though the question is an answer in itself. “No way,” he mutters.

Giving up the charade, he skips over to Percival and clasps him on the shoulders. “Newt and I are coming to school here, now! Surprise!”

_Mercy Lewis, I’m doomed._

**Author's Note:**

> *Dude, so in Los Angeles there's a remake of Diagon Alley named Whimsic Alley (y'know, for whimsically) and according to the Harry Potter wikia, along with Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, there's also Carkitt Market and _Horizont Alley_ this is ridiculous I love it.
> 
> **Callum Turner has been cast as Theseus! Gosh their resemblance is _striking_.
> 
> Btw guys I looked up pictures of Colin Farrell for reference and oooh boy. And just, pictures of Eddie Redmayne in general and I'm going to cry over both their beautiful faces what is happening to me why are they both so pretty help


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